


Changing

by Inksinger



Series: On Azerothian Soil [8]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Catfight, M/M, Multi, blood elf
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-19
Updated: 2013-09-19
Packaged: 2017-12-27 00:18:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/972042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inksinger/pseuds/Inksinger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Sunfury Spire might seem tranquil to those looking on it from the outside, but to those living within the air has begun to crackle with hostility as those closest to the Regent Lord begin to vye amongst themselves for sole claim to his affections.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Changing

It was a little-known fact that the Sunfury Spire was not, in fact, merely a single spire with quarters built in around the base for the triumvirate and any political guests they chose to entertain.

Even those who were aware of this – those who had lived in Silvermoon City since before the fall of the Sunwell, and who had seen the new palace rise from the gutted remains of the Sunstrider Spire – were not aware that the Sunfury Spire was in fact a large, multilevel palace with several large buildings and a network of underground cellars and escape tunnels that made the passages of Undercity look like child’s play.

All that could be seen of the palace from the outside were the grand steps leading to its main entry, the lines of guards posted on either side of the walkway, the large building that housed a good majority of the government rooms and public areas such as the audience hall and the side chambers containing portals to different regions all across Azeroth. The occasional citizen would wander to the sides for some reason or another (usually out of curiosity or boredom – only fools wandered there and hoped to escape the notice of the twenty or so guards stationed just yards away), but any who hoped to see more of the Spire walked away disappointed: Great walls surrounded the majority of the palace, shielding all but the public access areas of the place from outside view.

Behind these walls was a massive complex of domed buildings connected by walkways and open-air corridors. The majority of these were not meant for matters of government, but instead housed such rooms as the servants’ quarters, guards’ quarters, two libraries, a ballroom with two adjacent banquet halls, the largest kitchen in the Eastern Kingdoms until you reached Stormwind (and even then the cleanest, quickest, and most precise), and several outdoor pavilions.

All of these outdoor pavilions were situated near the center of the palace grounds, and were separated from each other by walled gardens, a building or two wherein the tools to maintain these gardens were kept, and the four open-air walkways leading from the personal quarters of the triumvirate, which did happen to be built at the base of the titular Spire itself.

Each pavilion served its own purpose – the Pavilion of Music was by the simplest description a massive gazebo where guests could come and listen to live music played by some of the best musicians in Quel’Thalas; the Pavilion of Delights was more or less a large garden area furnished by several groupings of divans and pillows and hookahs, with carved wooden dividers serving as walls behind which the servants of the Spire’s political guests could rest and watch their masters relax and carry on discussions of a more lighthearted sort than those carried on behind closed doors within the palace’s rooms of government. Then there was the Pavilion of Willows, a smaller, more private area consisting of a mad-made island set in the center of a round pond, connected to the edges of the pond by three finely-crafted footbridges, and shielded from outside eyes by the boughs of three large willows that acted as natural curtains around the edges of the island.

The Pavilion of Willows was well-known as a favorite retreat for couples – especially younger elven nobles, often heirs to their houses – seeking private rendezvous while in attendance to this or that gathering at the Spire. It was less well-known that this was also the only pavilion where one could catch a glimpse of a fourth pavilion, largely unknown to those who did not dwell within the Spire: the Pavilion of Blades.

This was not an area meant for idle chatter, soft music, or the enjoyment of exotic drugs and teas; the Pavilion of Blades was a large outdoor training area set aside for the palace denizens to practice their more advanced skills with knife, sword, and bow.

This was the least-maintained area of the Spire’s grounds, with the flora and fauna allowed to flourish as naturally and freely as they might beyond the walls of Silvermoon City in order to mimic the conditions one could expect to encounter if one were to venture out into the wilder parts of Quel’Thalas. Weapon racks could be found near both of the pavilion’s entrance points, as well as stone benches and field medicine kits set aside in case anyone became a bit…rambunctious with their routines.

Targets and training dummies could also be found scattered throughout the pavilion – some mounted to the ground or against the trunks and branches of the larger trees, while others were mobile targets on ropes and weighted pendulums and training dummies touched with just a trace of magic so that they dodged and lunged of their own volition when attacked, but remained inanimate at all other times.

At the moment the Pavilion of Blades _should_ have been empty; those who typically used it were inside today, training new recruits to the palace guard in the Hall of the Spark--a large, indoor area roughly the size of a ballroom, with walls lined with mirrors and a textured tile floor that offered sure footing even when blood was spilled. Weapon racks were spaced evenly along the walls, and training dummies and pendulum targets dotted the center of the room. The lighting in the room could be brought up or down by lighting or extinguishing torches and fireplaces as necessary.

Typically the Hall was used as a sparring area for new recruits and seasoned veterans alike, where hand-to-hand combat and simpler armed maneuvers were most commonly practiced, but an assassination attempt just a few days earlier had necessitated its current use as a training ground for the bashful of new recruits joining the palace guard. Though the attempt on the Regent Lord's life had been thwarted, the guard had lost several warriors before the would be assassins had been cut down, and the newcomers--though skilled warriors in their own right, hand-picked by the Ranger General himself--were not used to the sort of fighting that focused as much on removing a threat as it did on removing the threat quietly and with as little damage to the surrounding area as possible.

Because of the training taking place indoors (for even the secluded Pavilion of Blades was not wholly secure, and the guard did not savor the thought of outsiders catching even a fleeting glimpse of their maneuvers), as well as the two or three additional guards still recovering from wounds they had received stopping the assassins, the Pavilion of Blades should not have been occupied at all... and yet occupied it was, by a single figure who stalked and slaughtered the animated dummies with a heated fury.

It hadn’t been so much the flash of movement and color that had drawn Rommath’s eye – though now that he looked, the blond was hacking away at a hapless dummy with all the savagery of an angry hawkstrider – as it had been the repeated, furious shouts and curses that the other man was treating his ‘opponent’ to as he attacked it. Even with sound-dampening spells set around the Pavilion of Willows to prevent too much sound from penetrating the space, Rommath could make out most of what the Ranger General was shouting without having to strain his ears too much.

A smirk tugged at the corners of Rommath’s mouth; it seemed Halduron was still a bit piqued about their discussion earlier that day – a discussion concerning Rommath’s supposed ‘poisoning of the Regent Lord’s mind’, as Halduron had so charmingly put it, and which had ended when the Regent Lord in question had happened upon their discussion and felt the need to step in before either disputant could do anything rash.

He needn’t have worried. Rommath, at least, prided himself on his ability to handle his infantile fellow adviser without having to resort to violence. That he had been preparing to throw an entirely harmless fireball at Halduron when Lor’themar had arrived was no reason at all for either of his colleagues to have assumed Rommath was about to get into any sort of physical altercation with Halduron.

That Halduron had been reaching for one of his knives, however, was more than enough reason for Lor’themar to have (correctly) assumed that his old friend was taking the discussion far too personally – never mind that the discussion had involved the Regent Lord’s personal relationships more than his recent political activities. It was common knowledge that rangers were barbaric, with short tempers and a desire for physical conflict that was nearly animalistic. The Ranger General was no different, clearly.

And Rommath found it rather amusing – as well as childish – how easily Halduron could be riled up by the mere notionthat Lor’themar was spending more of his time with Rommath than his old friend. After all, it wasn’t as though _Halduron_  was a one-lover man; those who knew the least bit about him learned early on not to try counting the whores, palace guards, rangers, merchants, and civilians the Ranger General laid with. Evidently Lor’themar was simply one of his favorites that Halduron was unwilling to share.

Or… was he?

Rommath smiled an incredibly unkind smile. Could it be that Halduron was not so much a jealous lover as he was worried that Lor’themar was trying to replace him? Not only that, but that he was being replaced by the one man whom he despised and could do nothing to harm?

Slender, long-fingered hands – if very slightly bony with age – marked Rommath’s spot in his book and closed it with a light snap. Perhaps it was best if he spoke with his dear young colleague; after all, it wouldn’t do to have such baseless suspicions lingering between them. Far better if he could ascertain for himself exactly where the source of Halduron’s antagonism lay.

~~~

The training dummy quite literally fell to pieces before Halduron, slashed by the elf’s newly sharpened knives to the point of being unrecognizable as the remains of anything that had even remotely resembled a humanoid in its original condition.

The blond’s chest heaved with his ragged breaths as he spat at the pile of coarse cotton stuffing and sheathed his blades. He supposed he should have at least attempted to keep this fourth one somewhat intact – it was hardly fair to deprive the others who used this pavilion to train of even one of their dummies, especially considering how prickly magi could be about having to do little things like bewitching a few oversized stuffed toys – but then, he was only supposing this much at all because he was finally beginning to calm down from his disagreement with a certain dark-haired old snake earlier that morning.

Anger flickered at the edges of his mind again, and Halduron narrowed his eyes as he fought to repress the urge to track down and destroy a fifth dummy. Rommath had gone too far that morning by bringing up Lor’themar’s recent, growing disinterest in Halduron’s company; if Lor’themar himself had not caught them arguing when he had, Halduron was not at all certain he would have been able to refrain much longer from slicing a few inches off the Grand Magister’s ear tips.

“My, my, Halduron. What on earth did the poor dummy do to deserve getting hacked to pieces?”

Halduron’s hackles went up immediately; his teeth clicked together so quickly at the sound of Rommath’s voice that he was certain the old vulture had heard it, and he took the extra moment to take one slow, deep breath before turning to face his tormentor with an open scowl.

“Rommath.” The name tasted like venom on his tongue, and he made no effort to hide the spite in his voice. “What a surprise to see you out here. Aren’t you worried you’ll get your fine silken robes dirty?”

“It is, after all, only dirt,” Rommath replied smoothly. “A minor, temporary inconvenience. Nothing more.”

“What brings you out here, then?” Halduron asked, crossing his arms across his chest as he spoke. This not only had the effect of making him look a little less interested in the conversation, but also effectively kept his hands away from the hilts of his knives.

“Only simple concern.” Rommath paused to flick a rogue strand of his horsetail back behind his shoulder before continuing, “I couldn’t help but overhear your… practice. You were making so much noise I thought perhaps you were battling an actual opponent. I see now I should not have underestimated our guards so thoughtlessly.”

And if Halduron had been fighting a true opponent, he had no doubt Rommath would have sauntered to the scene anyway. Or perhaps _limped_ was the better word for the odd, halting walk the mage had…

“Clearly nothing is amiss,” Halduron said aloud. So you can slink back to whatever hole you came from, he added silently as he pointedly turned to hunt down another training dummy.

“Nothing?” Rommath’s voice practicallydripped with honey. “Surely that can’t be right. If nothing is wrong, why on earth would you have demolished a training dummy? Or sworn at it,” he added, and Halduron almost flinched at the pointed emphasis on sworn, “as though it had tried to kill you?”

Halduron froze, but didn’t turn back around as he heard Rommath take a step closer. He wasn’t sure what he’d see on the older elf’s face of he did, and he really wasn’t sure he would be able to keep his hands to himself if he found out.

“I think something is bothering you, Halduron,” Rommath was saying. Light, the man was  _purring_. Nothing ever ended well when Rommath started purring.

“Suddenly you’re the resident psychologist, eh, Rommath?” Halduron ground out as pleasantly as he could manage while speaking through gritted teeth.

“I never said that.” Two more steps; Halduron could feel him breathing down his neck. “But even I find something amiss with one of my  _dear_ colleagues maiming a training dummy and calling it by my name as he does so.”

_Fel._

“That I despise you is anything new to you, Rommath?” Halduron asked with a snarl. “Funny. I thought you were more observant than that.”

“Oh, but I am.” A hand came to rest on his shoulder, cold and bony like the talon of some ancient bird of prey. “So observant, in fact, that I notice things you don’t want me to. Things like the tension that seems to settle in the air whenever you are in the same room as Lor’themar, or the way you seem to deflate whenever he leaves.”

“That’s enough, Rommath,” Halduron growled.

“Is it? But there’s more. Merely mentioning our Regent Lord’s name sets you on edge. It makes your tone sharper, your eyes colder.” Rommath was glowing, and Halduron could feel it against his back like the rays of a frigid sun.

“Something must have changed; I can still remember the days when one could hardly pry you away from his chambers—”

Halduron whirled on Rommath, at the same time moving away from him as he snapped, “You go too far!”

“Do I?” Rommath’s eyes glittered, and Halduron realized too late the snake had been waiting for him to say something to that effect. “What’s wrong, my dear Ranger General? Surely you aren’t worried you’re being replaced,are you? And you two used to be soclose.” His eyes narrowed as he asked, “Does Lor’themar know? Have you told _him_  you feel so… abandoned?”

When Halduron did nothing but snarl wordlessly at him the Grand Magister jerked his head back in mock surprise. “So you  _haven’t_? My, my, Halduron, I would have thought you of all people would understand no relationship can last without a bit of honesty.”

“As if you would know anything about honesty,” Halduron scoffed.

“Oh, but I might,” Rommath responded smugly. “Especially where Lor’themar is concerned.”

Halduron’s vision went red. “You lie,” he spat.

“You are certainly free to believe what you will, dear Halduron.” Rommath waved the accusation away casually. “But even you cannot ignore how much more frequently Lor’themar listens to my counsel over yours, calls for my interpretation of events over yours... I daresay he even spends more time in my company than he does in yours."

Halduron felt physically ill. He was lying. He had to be lying.

“You look unwell, Halduron. Perhaps you should retire for the day,” and Rommath’s voice went from seething with false concern to dripping venom in the space of a word as he finished, “Lor’themar will be in very capable hands until you’ve recovered.”

Halduron's hand twitched toward his blade; no one else was watching, he could always claim Rommath had startled him, it really wasn't his fault if the man lost an ear tip or both sneaking up behind Halduron while he was practicing with one of the dummies...

Grinding his teeth, Halduron turned sharply away and left the pavilion, leading Rommath smirking behind him. It would help no one if Halduron maimed the venomous old cobra... and Halduron had no desire for even the other man's blood to touch him.


End file.
